


unexpected thanks

by oforamuse



Series: shameless oneshots [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Husbands, M/M, Post Season 10, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22940137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oforamuse/pseuds/oforamuse
Summary: 'you've got a ring.'or, the one where ian bumps into kash and gets to break the news that he and mickey are married.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: shameless oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652296
Comments: 38
Kudos: 504





	unexpected thanks

**Author's Note:**

> i literally don't know what this is, i got some inspiration and ploughed it out in like 2 hours - so please ignore any hugely gaping mistakes. i was rewatching the 1x09 when kash shoots mickey and i couldn't help but think about how ridiculously hilarious it would be for him to discover that they're now happily married. thus, this was born.

Ian walks slowly down the fresh vegetable aisle, crossing off the mental list in his head of things he needs to get for the recipe Mickey’s insisting on making. He’s gotten really into _cooking_ cooking recently, not just throwing something in the microwave and hitting 30 seconds kind of cooking. 

It’s pretty hot, actually. 

Often Ian will come home from work and the kitchen will be filled with all sorts of smells, some good and some terrible - Mickey’s still learning. There’s been a few burnt dinners and a couple of small pan fires, but nothing too overly drastic. Whenever a recipe fails, or Mickey doesn’t seem completely satisfied in his success, he gets up and tries the same one again. Point blank, in his stubborn way, refusing to be beaten by a page and a half of instructions. Ian can help but find it incredibly endearing. He didn’t think he’d ever see the day Mickey made him something that wasn’t pizza pockets or mac and cheese from a box, so he’s relishing in it. 

Perhaps marriage really does change people. 

It’s been just over three months since they got married and though Ian sometimes still struggles with the girth of it all, he doesn’t regret it one bit. He’s stopped looking up divorce statistics and searching for a reason for everything to all fall to shit, so that’s a definite step up. He’s taking it day by day but it’s good. He’s happier these days too, everyone’s noticed it, he’s noticed it. He feels lighter, things roll off of his back more - the same goes for Mickey too. They’ve barely even bickered in the last few weeks, which is so incredibly unlike them, they can’t quite believe it. 

Is this what it feels like to finally have time? Time to be a couple, time to be codependent and independent all in the same moment, time to actually exist as a _them_ and not be broken apart by homophobic dads, or mental illness, or incarceration? 

Having the space and the freedom to actually co-exist with one another without something hanging over their heads is a foreign concept to both of them, but Ian thinks they’re kind of nailing the whole marital bliss thing. They wake up together, often wrapped around one another, safe and warm. They go to their separate (parole approved) jobs, Ian often driving and dropping Mickey off - sometimes the other way round depending on their afternoon plans. There’s kisses on the cheek in greetings and goodbyes, ass grabs in passing and arms locked around shoulders. They’ve been holding hands more a lot, unable to pull themselves apart when they literally don’t _have_ to be, craving each other’s touch and comfort almost every second of the day. 

It’s everything 16 year old Ian could’ve dreamed of and more. 

Ian’s fingers brush over the sweet peppers, wondering whether Mickey wanted red or green - or was it yellow? He doesn’t know what Mickey's making for them later, only that he _needed_ to get the ingredients right now as Mickey didn’t have time between work and the quickie they managed to squeeze in before they had to run out of the door. It’s Ian’s day off, he figured he’d treat his husband to a little domestic run to the supermarket. He’s about to pull out his phone to text Mickey to check, _God forbid_ he buys the wrong type of peppers, when he hears his name being called. 

_‘Ian?’_

His head shoots up towards the voice, it’s familiar. 

‘Ian is that you? Ian Gallagher?’ 

Well, count _that_ on the list of things that Ian didn’t expect to happen today. 

Kash is standing in the same aisle, just a few feet over from him. He looks older, much older than Ian can remember him. His hair has a minor smattering of grey, but nothing hugely noticeable. His eyes are tired, and there’s a couple more wrinkles than there was before, but other that, he looks mostly the same. 

Their obvious difference in age makes Ian’s skin crawl, like tiny little ants making their way up his bones and into his veins. He shudders, unable to believe he let 16 year old him be used by this absolute tool. 

‘Kash...Hi.’ Ian says, caught completely off guard. It comes out awkwardly, his discomfort horribly evident in his voice. Kash’s face shifts slightly, making Ian cringe. 

‘How are you- what’s it been like, 6 or 7 years?’ Kash continues, his hands adjusting his grip the shopping basket he’s carrying. 

‘Probably more like 8.’ Ian replies and it feels forced. There’s an awful beat of silence where neither man knows where to approach next. Ian just wants to get his peppers and move onto the beans aisle, what the fuck is Kash going to want to talk about next, the weather? His phone buzzes, he pulls it out of his pocket to check the notification, happily taking a moment for a distraction. Kash makes a noise of surprise at the movement and Ian looks up questioningly. He can feel the light scowl on his face - it’s nothing too seriously pissed off, but there’s definitely an air of bother about it. 

‘You’ve got a ring.’ Kash says, gripping his basket with one hand so he can bring one up to point the other at Ian’s left side. ‘You’re married?’ 

The wedding band suddenly feels incredibly heavy on his finger - it’s a good weight though, it’s grounding. He can feel the corners of his mouth twist up into a soft smile, it’s comforting, knowing that he has that little piece of Mickey with him wherever he goes. 

He still hasn’t gotten the hang of remembering to put it back on every time he does the dishes or something, much to Mickey’s charigin, but he’s working on it. 

More importantly though, he’s wearing it right now. 

‘Yeah I am.’ Ian replies, it’s proud and firm. His thumb rubs lightly over the band. 

‘Wow.’ Kash says with both the tone of somewhat surprise and disbelief. He steps forward ever so slightly, and Ian moves back an inch automatically, keeping the distance. ‘The last time I saw you, you were hooking up with...was it Mickey Milkovich?- _God_ knows where that kid ended up.’ There’s a beat, ‘Prison, hopefully.’ He adds. 

It’s biting and dismissive - Ian knows it’s supposed to be a light joke, but it makes his fists curl protectively. He knows he can’t entirely blame Kash for thinking Mickey wouldn’t amount to much, given the fact the kid spent most of his juvenile years robbing him openly (and completely unapologetically), but it makes his jaw clench tightly. Mickey, is and always was, so much more than a neighbourhood thug. 

So much more. 

_Keep it together_ , he tells himself. He breathes, allowing the tension to roll off his shoulders and down into the floor. 

‘Who’s the lucky guy?’ Kash asks, it’s weird and kind of gross. Being around him, so many years later and being much more clear headed, makes him feel slightly sick in his stomach. ‘Someone I know?’ 

This makes Ian smirk slightly, ‘You could say that.’ 

This is going to be fun. 

‘Who?’ Kash says, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, it’s a stark contrast to the friendly attitude he’s been trying to throw off. 

‘I guess I, well _we_ , should say thank you.’ Ian says, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to come off as cool and casual as possible, ‘we would’ve never met without your...er, help.’ 

Was that the right word to use? He doesn’t really care, it’s hilarious to watch Kash squirm. He watches the gears working in his head as the older man puts two and two together. He’s surprised at how easily Kash clocks on, only taking a moment before his eyes widen in shock. 

‘You’re kidding me.’ Kash says, his jaw practically falling out of it’s socket with how dramatically it drops. It hangs there for a second, and Ian just grins. Kash adjusts himself, gulping. ‘You’re married... to Mickey Milkovich?’ He says Mickey’s name with a whisper, ducking his head slightly, as if to avoid being heard. 

‘The very same.’ Ian states smoothly, holding Kash’s gaze firmly, daring the older man to make a judgement. 

_You’re not allowed to say shit_ , he thinks, _you are literally the last person on earth who is allowed to judge anyone over who they marry._

He hopes to fucking God there’s hasn’t been anymore 16 year olds, he hopes he got himself some therapy. What is he even doing back in Chicago? 

‘I don’t know what to say.’ Kash adds after a moment, the air between them stilted and awkward. Ian wants to leave, groceries be damned, but he knows Mickey would probably kill him to let his opportunity slip. He always did love to gloat right in Kash’s face, whether it be over a tube of pringles he stole, a snickers bar or Ian himself. 

‘Don’t say anything then.’ Ian says curtly, it comes off ruder than he intended but he doesn’t really care. 

‘Really? _Mickey_?’ Kash asks unpleasantly, and Ian doesn’t like the way Mickey’s name sounds in his voice. Like it’s dirty, and imperfect. 

‘Yeah.’ Ian says firmly, the tension palpable, ‘We’re really fuckin’ happy. Big wedding and everything.’ He waves his hand out in an exaggerated gesture, hoping to help hammer the point home. He’s happy, he’s so happy, he’s happier than he’s ever been for literal years. Fuck this guy, fuck his judgement. 

‘Didn’t expect that.’ Kash says, it’s quiet but comes out clear. His brows furrow together, the aged wrinkles on his forehead deepen. ‘Honestly, I’m just surprised he didn’t end up locked _up-’_ He stops himself, ‘And you…’

There it is again - there’s that age old judgement glinting in his eye. Or is it discomfort? Longing?

It’s an echo of something familiar, it’s a look he was thrown back in the day when he restocked the shelves incorrectly or when he would brush Kash’s prying hands off nearer the end of _Their Thing_ when Mickey fell into the picture.

‘Thanks for letting Mickey steal your gun.’ Ian says cooly, hoping it lands as the jab he intended it to be, which it does, if he can tell anything by the way Kash flinches.

He grabs the closest pepper, Mickey’s pedantic need to follow a recipe perfectly be damned, and shoves it in his basket. Kash stands there awkwardly, dumbfounded. 

‘Would you mind? I need an onion.’ He says, exasperated by the unnecessary drama of it all. Kash doesn’t reply, just standing and staring at him somewhat blankly. Ian points to the shelf full of onions Kash is blocking easy access to. He doesn’t move, his mouth gaping slightly as he, Ian assumes, searches for something to say. Ian shrugs, and leaning around him, grabbing a yellow onion and shoving it in his basket. 

‘Hope you figured your shit out.’ He adds and that’s it, that’s all he’s going to give him. He’s not going to wish him well or say he hopes he found true love or some shit. He might’ve done when he was a kid, but not anymore, not when he could never even _dream_ of touching a kid the way Kash did. He turns and walks confidently down the aisle, away from Kash, away from the mistakes he made as a dumb 16 year old, away from the weird and _fucked up in so many ways_ life he used to lead. It’s weird, when he was a kid he truly believed it was _him_ against the world - especially growing up in such a volatile lifestyle like the South Side. He wishes someone had told him properly that there’s always support if he knew where to look for it...or well, in Ian’s case, if you go to steal back a stolen gun and come back with a boyfriend, _husband_ , instead. 

Not that it happened that easily, he’s not kidding himself. 

As he scans the beans a few moments later, he makes a silent vow to _never_ let his and Mickey’s future kid - because it’s happening, no matter how many times Mickey scoffs at the suggestion - ever feel like they have to go to a strange middle aged man for comfort.

Or anyone else for that matter. They’re gonna be _such_ fucking good parents. 

The thought about their future is warm and sits happily in his stomach, bubbling away lightly. He doesn’t feel too thrown off from seeing Kash, the pent up tension slowly ebbing away as he allows himself to relish for a moment on his and Mickey’s future. A future they finally get to have, think about and plan. It’s finally in arms reach and they are going to achieve absolutely everything that they want to from now on. Jobs, kids, money? A house of their own? Cats, dogs, and maybe even a goddamn Hamster. 

It doesn’t matter, they’re gonna do it _all_. 

So yeah, Kash, thanks for that. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, comments and kudos highly appreciated! 
> 
> [follow me on twitter](https://twitter.com/buzzcutian) and oforamuse on tumblr
> 
> anyways, stream stupid love by lady gaga. 
> 
> xoxo


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